


Wherefore art thou, Romeo?

by PandoraButler



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Emotional, FTW, I love this ship, M/M, Shakespeare, Vincent x The Undertaker is life #changemymind, undertaker is a tsundere, vincent is a lowkey stalker, vintaker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-15 21:48:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14798567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandoraButler/pseuds/PandoraButler
Summary: Ciel barges into The Undertaker's funeral parlor demanding to know about an old photograph. Little does he know that he's bringing up an old lover's memories...





	Wherefore art thou, Romeo?

Some things are forbidden to those who want them the most. Things like love, riches, or power. Things like knowledge. Things like emotions. Some things just do not exist to those that wish to have them. They are forbidden. They are the forbidden fruits that are the greatest temptations. People cannot know them, for they will not understand them. 

The door closed in the familiar mortician’s funeral home. He wasn’t surprised to see the young boy standing there. However, what he was surprised to see was him standing there  _ alone _ . The blue-haired boy never left his manor without the company of his butler. The Undertaker chuckled. To what did he owe this great pleasure? The little earl came to visit him. Was this his first errand?

“My, my, if it isn’t the young Earl Phantomhive,” The Undertaker smiled and rested his chin on his hand. Unfortunately, the earl was not in the mood to play games. He never was.

“Undertaker,” the earl slammed his cane down on the floor, “enough with the foolishness. I’m here to talk business.”

“Business? Without your butler? What business could you possibly have with me?” The Undertaker continued to grin. “Are you finally willing to let me build you a coffin?”

The young earl walked forward and slammed his hand down on the table. The table shook, as did everything on it, but The Undertaker wasn’t phased by this action. He didn’t even flinch. “Tell me the meaning of this photograph,” he glared. The Undertaker could see the truth behind the glare. It was not one of animosity but one as a front to hide his curiosity. The young earl was awakening feelings within himself. Ah, the troubles of youth. He isn’t that much different from his father after all. 

“Is that not a picture of the late Earl Phantomhive? What could I possibly tell you that you don’t already know?” The Undertaker refused to give in. He wasn’t going to hand out free information. It mattered little to him how much the young earl wanted to know.

“Don’t feign ignorance!” the young earl raised his voice, “I know you are the woman in this picture. Do not pretend otherwise! There isn’t another individual with that kind of hair around! Tell me the meaning behind this photograph! I demand to know your relationship with my father!”

“You, ‘demand to know’ things that you cannot afford, young Earl Phantomhive,” The Undertaker picked up the photograph and held it in his hands. He looked at it with nostalgia as the memories came back to him. Yes, he loved Vincent with all of his heart but a relationship between the two was futile. Vincent was betrothed. Vincent had no need for a damaged reaper. A forbidden love between star-crossed lovers could not bear fruit. That’s the curse of those that collect the souls of the dead. So, he forbid it from ever happening in the first place.

“You don’t understand,” the young earl’s voice cracked as he fell to his knees, “I  _ need _ to know the relationship between you two,” he began to shed unwanted tears as he knelt on the floor. The Undertaker got out of his chair and walked to the other side of the table. He knelt down in front of Ciel and looked him in the eyes.

“Am I the only person you can talk to about your mysterious feelings? That’s amusing, is it not? Never in my long life did I expect  _ you _ to come to  _ me _ about problems of the heart. This is most amusing, young lord, most amusing indeed. Very well, sit down, have a cup of tea, I suppose I shall tell you the story of myself and Vincent Phantomhive.”

The two sat down and sipped the warm tea that The Undertaker had taken the time to make. The Undertaker stared into his cup and formulated the sentences he needed to speak. “It’s true, that we had a somewhat  _ interesting _ relationship, your father and I, but I cannot think of where to begin. I suppose the easiest way to start any story is just to simply start it, wouldn’t you agree?” 

Ciel nodded at the statement. He was eager to know. The reasons for his desperate attempts to grasp this knowledge were not difficult to figure out. He had experienced strange emotions towards his butler that he didn’t understand. Once he had found the photograph of two people so enamoured with each other, he wanted nothing more than to understand it. The Undertaker seemed to grasp his true motives. Ciel was glad that he’d agreed to tell him so easily.

“Your father and I met by accident in a market one day. The two of us both wanted the same thing. His eyes met mine and he must’ve become entranced by the strangeness of them because he immediately asked for my hand. I knew who he was before he knew me, you see, and I couldn’t help but laugh at the silly request. Two males can’t get married in this time period, I’m sure you know, and he was already betrothed. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he was reported and sent to prison right then and there.”

“Ah, so it is impossible,” Ciel clutched the cup in his hands and sighed. He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up.

“No, my dear young earl, nothing is  _ impossible _ ,” The Undertaker corrected, “it just depends on how careful you are about it. In any case, the two of us became acquainted. Pay close attention, because I’m only going to tell you this story once.”

Ciel sat and listened with great attentiveness. Each word that escaped The Undertaker’s mouth was engraved into his brain. He paid close attention and refused to forget a single detail. This story would clutch the very core of his mind for decades to come. 

. . .

“My Juliet, have you agreed to marry me yet?” Vincent grinned from ear to ear as he leaned down to kiss The Undertaker’s hand. The Undertaker simply rolled his eyes and said nothing. What madness was he speaking? The two had only met by accident the day before and Vincent became enthralled with a person he didn’t even know. Love at first sight? Preposterous! Such a silly thing doesn’t exist! That’s too good to be true. There hasn’t been a soul as far as time could tell that loved The Undertaker, and there wouldn’t be for the rest of his miserable life. 

“I’m sure you already know of my sex, do you not?” The Undertaker replied. “Besides, isn’t the Earl Phantomhive in training already betrothed? We’ve had a total of  _ one _ conversation. Do you really mean to tell me that you’ve fallen for a  _ stranger _ ? You know nothing about me, Romeo.”

“Do I need to know that the sky is blue or that air is necessary for survival? My sweet Juliet, there are things in this life that people are  _ born _ knowing. I do not need to know a single thing about you to know that we were meant to be together. I love you, Juliet, will you not reconsider?” Vincent pleaded.

“I will most certainly  _ not _ reconsider, foolish earl in training,” The Undertaker sighed. How long had he been alive? Countless souls to be collected and countless humans to interact with. Why was it now, of all times, that he found himself talking to a very annoying one?

“If you change your mind, and I certainly hope you will, come to the ball tonight,” Vincent placed an invitation in The Undertaker’s hand. He smiled and left the reaper standing in the middle of the street alone. The Undertaker was completely and utterly dumbfounded by Vincent’s foolishness. Should he entertain the idea of going to a ball? The Undertaker was too old to participate in such activities. What was Vincent thinking? Flirting with a reaper that was far too old for him? Did he not fear death?

. . .

“I had no idea my father was such a hopeless romantic,” Ciel held his face in his hands and sighed. “Did you end up going to the ball? Is that the end of the story?”

“Of course not. I ripped up the invitation and prayed that I’d never meet the frivolous earl ever again.”

“But then, how did this picture get taken if you didn’t go to the ball?” Ciel asked confused.

“Perhaps if you weren’t so keen on interrupting me, I could tell you,” The Undertaker sighed. 

“I apologize, do continue.”

“Your father was not one to give up so easily. He continued to send me invitations to various get togethers. I refused all seven hundred and fifty six of them.”

“Seven hundred and fifty six?!” Ciel gasped. How badly did his father want to get into this old man’s pants? What kind of crazy man’s genes did he have? Ciel felt a chill run down his spine. His father was actually a very stalker-like fellow. Who knew?

“Yes, however there was  _ one _ invitation that I simply couldn’t refuse. A client had asked me to attend a ball dressed as a women. This was my form of payment for the information she had given me. I was backed into a corner. Although, I had tried very hard to avoid the Earl Phantomhive, it was impossible,” The Undertaker sighed, “he was simply too interested in chasing after me.”

“I can’t believe my father was actually so terrifying,” Ciel said.

“He most certainly is a very terrifying man,” The Undertaker agreed.

. . .

“Wait!” Vincent called as he chased after The Undertaker. “I know it’s you! Please, don’t run from me! My legs hurt!”

“Why shouldn’t I run from a perverted young man such as yourself?” The Undertaker glared from beneath his overgrown fringe. “I have no intentions of furthering my relationship with you.”

“What have I done to offend you, Juliet? I just want to show my undying affection. Is that so terrible? Should that be a crime?” Vincent questioned.

“It most certainly should,” The Undertaker grumbled. “I have no need of your ‘undying’ affection.”

Vincent grabbed The Undertaker’s hand and stared at him with the hopeful look that youth usually wear. “Please give me a chance,” he pleaded, “I promise I shall not disappoint you.” 

“I am not your kind,” The Undertaker spoke, “it doesn’t matter how much you say that you care, it simply isn’t meant to be. I’m cursed. The universe would never allow me to be involved with a person such as yourself.”

“So you do admit that there is something there,” Vincent smiled. “Let me have one dance, please? I promise I’ll give up after this single dance.”

“You’re hopeless,” The Undertaker shook his head. “Fine,  _ one _ dance. That’s it. Then we shall forget this ever happened, understood?”

Vincent wrapped his arms around The Undertaker and the two danced. It was undeniable that something existed between them. The Undertaker didn’t want to admit to himself that Vincent was his type. The two danced in the garden outside the ballroom. There was no music but the imaginary melody that existed in the air. No words were said and no words were needed. The two felt something for each other that wouldn’t exist with any other. A relationship, however, was still impossible. 

The dance ended but the two didn’t separate. This would be the last interaction they’d ever be able to have. Vincent refused to let it end without at least  _ one _ kiss. He leaned forward and allowed the unspeakable act to take place. The two kissed that night. The Undertaker had allowed it despite knowing it would lead to nothing good.

. . .

“That’s it? You just kissed and it was over?” Ciel frowned. “That’s disappointing. I was expecting a bit more of a story.”

“There was someone else in the garden that night. Vincent was threatened. The knowledge of his ‘secret lover’ would be told to the press if he didn’t hand over a large sum of money. He had no place to refuse and he couldn’t continue his meaningless attempts to woo me,” The Undertaker explained. “Your father married your mother and insisted that I help him from time to time with his ‘guard-dog’ duties.”

“That’s despicable! You two should have continued your relationship! What sort of nonsense is this?” Ciel slammed his hand on the table. “This is infuriating!”

The Undertaker chuckled, “Some things aren’t meant to be. If Vincent had continued the pointless pursuit of me, how would you have been born? How would you have been able to meet your faithful butler? Count your blessings, young earl.”

“None of that matters!” Ciel frowned. “You two should’ve at  _ least _ had a secret affair behind my mother’s back!” 

The Undertaker grinned. Ciel certainly had a weird way of looking at the world. He’d told him the story that he’d wanted to know, but he wasn’t sure what Ciel would do with this knowledge. Would he try to pursue his relationship with Sebastian knowing that it might never work out? Or would he give up because it was useless? Phantomhives are stubborn. The Undertaker felt the story would just give him the right amount of determination needed to tell Sebastian how he felt.

Ciel stormed out of the funeral parlor and The Undertaker assumed that he’d made his way back to his manor. In his hurry, he’d left the picture of The Undertaker and Vincent behind. The Undertaker sighed and stared at the photo. That night was a night worth remembering. If they had been born into a different set of circumstances, would the two have been able to love each other fully?

The Undertaker picked up the photo and placed it in a safe location. In another life, in another place, maybe he would find  _ true _ happiness. 

. . .

“You are the biggest fool I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing,” The Undertaker cried as he held the body of Vincent in his arms. Flames surrounded the two as the manor burned to the ground.

“Juliet?” Vincent’s eyes fluttered open in his final moments. “I’m so glad that you’re the one who holds me as I die,” he smiled.

“You’re an idiot, Romeo,” The Undertaker continued to cry, “who said that you were allowed to die?”

“My life wasn’t truly worth living without you in it,” Vincent spoke, “I truly wish that we could’ve figured something out. I should’ve tried harder to shut that eavesdropper up back then.”

“Don’t speak, you’re using too much of your strength,” The Undertaker scolded.

“Thank you for dancing with me that night, I never forgot it,” Vincent smiled.

“Foolish Romeo, don’t you know we will have many dances yet to come?” 

“I’d like that very much,” Vincent closed his eyes and breathed his last. 

“Romeo? Romeo!” The Undertaker felt a steady stream of tears leaving his eyes. He held Vincent close and rocked back and forth whilst the manor burned around him. “Wherefore art thou, Romeo? Deny thy death and refuse thy pain. If thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I’ll no longer be a harbinger of Death.”

. . .

The door to the funeral parlor opened once more. The Undertaker turned around to greet his new guest. “Welcome,” he said. His eyes met with the visitor. His mouth dropped and he was certain his eyes deceived him.

 

“Hello, Juliet,” the visitor replied.


End file.
